


In Which A Singular Letter Makes All The Difference

by cdaae



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Mystery, Pandemics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25817551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdaae/pseuds/cdaae
Summary: This morning I saw a post on tumblr that read along the lines of "can't wait to see this year's hallmark movie about a ceo and a candlemaker that meet after joining the wrong zoom call" and this fic was born.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Raoul de Chagny/Christine Daaé
Comments: 59
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

No one had really seen the pandemic coming. Christine’s semester had ended early and all her classmates went their separate ways to quarantine. Meg, her roommate, had gone home to be with her mother, leaving Christine with their apartment all to herself. Christine had stocked up on some of the basic necessities and spent most of her days practicing her music and binging Netflix. It was a pandemic, she was allowed to relax a little, right?

When it was time for a new semester, Christine had tentatively signed up for classes. Nearly all would be held online, but she’d need to make occasional appearances at the school. She was also assigned a private voice teacher who she’d work with through Zoom. Christine had not met this Dr. DuBois, but she was excited to work with him. She preferred to meet people in person to get a good sense of them; talking through Zoom with a stranger was often stiff and filled with many pauses and she  _ hated _ the silence. She hoped that a mutual love of music would help them to bond and keep the call from being awkward. 

Meg had reluctantly returned to the apartment. She hated to leave her mother, but she knew that Annette Giry was a force to be reckoned with and would be alright on her own. Truthfully, there wasn’t much danger. Her mother wore a mask on outings, practiced social distancing, and kept everything sanitized. The biggest threat was from the virus itself. But Meg still didn’t like to be away from her mother during so much uncertainty. Christine was happy to have Meg back. With no family of her own to care for, she’d been quite lonely in their empty apartment. Her mother had died when she was three from a sudden illness they hadn’t been able to treat in time. Her father followed when she was fifteen, and the Giry’s had taken her in. She was used to Meg’s presence and was really the only friend Christine ever saw regularly, especially now that there was a pandemic. 

Her school had emailed her an appointment time and the code for the meeting. Meg had wanted to stick around and listen in, but Christine had convinced her to do their shopping during the appointed time. Meg had very dramatically donned a mask and bid her farewell. “You’d better tell me all about your new teacher, Christine! I want every single detail or I won’t speak to you for a week!” Christine could only giggle at her friend’s slightly muffled voice. 

She knew why Meg wanted to sit in. Meg and her mother had both been shocked when Christine had declared her major would be vocal performance. Since her father’s death, Christine had refused to sing. She had dropped out of the high school choir and stopped taking lessons. She rarely used her voice to speak, meek as she’d always been, but she certainly didn’t sing. Christine knew Meg wanted to stand by, in case she needed support, but Christine would rather face this lesson alone. She’d prepared herself to sing when she’d started at the college, but the first two years were focused more on the academic aspect of her degree. Now that the time had come for her to actually sing for someone, she was nervous, and she was glad it would just be her and a stranger. It would make it easier if she cried, or if her voice failed. 

Glancing at the clock, she realized it was almost time, close enough that she could sign in now. She read the code before clicking over to Zoom, trying to type it in from memory. She didn’t realize that she was off by one letter. The screen loaded.

The man who appeared on her screen was wearing a full black mask. Christine could only see as far as his shoulders but he wore a white dress shirt, and the pale skin of his neck nearly matched. He had dark hair that was unkempt, a few strands hanging over the mask. She could see various musical instruments hanging on the wall, so she supposed this must be her Dr. DuBois. The man on the other end was still and she wondered for a moment if her video was frozen before he spoke. 

“Who are you?” His voice was soft, with a lyrical lilt to it. Despite the beautiful sound, it sent a chill down her spine. 

“I’m Christine Daae, your eleven o’clock singing lesson.” She figured he must have many students and perhaps couldn’t keep them all straight. He didn’t seem like the warm, friendly sort of teacher who got to know each of his students personally.

Again, he hesitated. “Very well… Sing.” 

Christine gaped at him for a moment. While she hadn’t been quite sure  _ what _ to expect, she’d thought there’d have been a little more small talk. He didn’t tell her what to sing, so she assumed he just wanted to gauge her abilities. With a small nod, she collected some sheet music. “Would you like me to play the cd or sing a cappella?” She cast a nervous glance his way. 

“What is the name of the song?” The man moved the camera and appeared to sit. He played a quick scale on a piano with long, slender fingers. “I will play for you.”

“You don’t have to wear a mask, you know.” She flipped through her song book and selected one, typing out the name and composer for him in the chat box. “You can’t catch the virus through a screen.” It was such an odd mask too, why would someone need to cover their entire face? Maybe he was a germaphobe.

He seemed to bristle for a moment, quiet. He was a man of few words, it seemed. “The mask stays on.” She decided not to question him. It wouldn’t do to be impertinent during their first lesson. 

With such an imposing presence, she was surprised her voice did not tremble while singing. She was grateful when he played the final bars and nervously awaited his feedback. He was silent for a long moment. “You have a beautiful voice…” He nodded thoughtfully. “An obvious lack of proper training but I could correct that in a few short months. You will be quite the protégé.”

Christine decided that that was the most positive response she could have hoped for. Her phone lit up with an email notification, which she would have ignored if not for the name of the sender. Dr. Dubois…    
  
She opened the email and quickly read it.    
  
“Miss Daae, 

It is twenty minutes past time for your lesson. Would you like to reschedule? I would appreciate a head’s up next time.

Dr. DuBois.”

She tried not to let her face betray any emotion. Who was the strange man on the other side of the screen and why had he answered her call? Why had he let her sing if she wasn’t his student? She glanced at him. He was collecting some sheet music. “Type your email in the chat, Miss Daae. I will scan some sheet music and send it to you. You can begin learning it until your next lesson and we will really dig in.” Christine hesitated. He clearly wasn’t Dr. DuBois, but perhaps he was also once of the school’s teachers, and she’d been given his code by mistake. She was still entirely unaware that the mistake had been made on her end. 

As he moved, she caught clearer glimpses of the room he was in. There were toppling stacks of sheet music and music books littering the floor. She noted several of the pieces looked handwritten. Some instruments were neatly hung on the wall, while others lay in cases or atop music. He seemed knowledgeable about music, at the very least and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t intrigued. She typed her email into the chat, taking a deep breath before she hit send. 

The man took a quick note of it. “Until next time, Miss Daae.” His screen went black before she could respond. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for your lovely comments! I really appreciate them!

Shortly after the bizarre Zoom call ended, Meg arrived home with the groceries. She and Christine wiped each item down with a disinfectant wipe while Meg chatted away. Christine occasionally nodded or murmured “hmm”, but her mind was on the lesson. If he wasn’t Dr. DuBois, who was he? Why hadn’t he introduced himself and talked about expectations or… something? She’d never had such an impersonal first lesson. But he’d liked her voice. She remembered the way his eyes had widened behind the mask when the first notes left her lips.  _ He had green eyes _ , she thought,  _ dark and stormy and distrusting. _ Maybe that’s why he’d said so little. For the first time, it occurred to her that maybe the virus had nothing to do with why he wore a mask. Oh God, how could she have been so insensitive? What if it was a medical issue or some similar reason? And she’d teased him about it! No wonder he didn’t want to speak much. She’d probably embarrassed him. 

“Christine?” She was pulled out of her thoughts by Meg’s sweet voice. “You haven’t heard a word I said.”

Christine’s cheeks flushed a faint red. “Sorry… I was… just lost in thought.” She gave her an apologetic smile.

“How was your lesson? Did it go well?” Meg’s eyes were worried even though she kept her voice light. 

“It was alright.” Christine tried to sound nonchalant. “Dr. DuBois is quite old and boring. I sang and he took some notes on my voice. He’s going to send me some music for us to work on.” She hated to lie to her best friend, but she wasn’t ready to tell her the truth. Not while she still had so many questions. 

Meg seemed to believe her and allowed the subject to change. Christine tried not to let her mind wander again. 

Christine later emailed Dr. DuBois and apologized, rescheduling for later in the week. He was her assigned teacher, she couldn’t very well ignore him. Maybe the school would realize their error in scheduling her with two teachers and would sort it out on their own. 

She couldn’t focus for long on her mysterious new tutor, her other classes began and kept her busy. She had her first lesson with the actual Dr. DuBois on Friday and before she knew it, the time was upon her. This presented her with a problem. 

Christine had told Meg that the initial lesson had gone well, and Meg knew that they would only have lessons once a week. How would she explain a second lesson? And what if Meg overheard the lesson and realized Christine and Dr. DuBois had never met? And what if he wasn’t old and boring like she’d said?

But Friday morning, Christine came out of her bedroom to find Meg with a bag packed and shoveling a bowl of cereal into her mouth. “I don’t have any classes on Friday,” she said with her mouth full. “I’m going home for the weekend. You’ll be ok here, right?” 

Christine nodded quickly. “Yes of course! I’ll tidy up while you’re gone.” Meg wrinkled her nose. She  _ hated _ housework and their apartment often reflected that. Christine tried to keep things clean, but Meg was like a small tornado. It was usually easier to wait until she was out of the house to clean up. With a small wave, Meg dashed out the door and Christine noted the dirty dish left on the counter. Meg was always in such a hurry. Christine didn’t doubt that she was late to catch the bus.

Suddenly, Meg was back, lifting a blue mask hanging off the tv. “Forgot my mask!” She slipped it on and vanished once again. Christine could only shake her head. 

Tidying up the apartment provided a welcome distraction before her Zoom lesson with Dr. DuBois. She started with the kitchen, rinsing all the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. She wiped down all the counters and swept and mopped the floor. Meg had left several textbooks and papers on the kitchen table- how could she have so much work in the first week? Christine straightened them up but left them there, she didn’t want Meg to be unable to find them when she returned. 

The living room had a bit more clutter. Meg had a bad habit of falling asleep on the couch and would often toss articles of clothing in an effort to be more comfortable. Christine retrieved a sock from a lamp and a bra from behind the tv. It never ceased to amaze her how Meg’s clothes ended up in the wildest of places. Gathering them up, she ran a load of laundry. Christine was used to tidying up after Meg, who might as well be her sister. She didn’t mind the work, it kept her busy. Almost too busy; glancing at the clock, Christine realized it was time to sign in!

She retrieved the Zoom code Dr. DuBois had emailed her but used a handy new trick Meg had shown her. She highlighted the code and right-clicked, selecting copy, then clicked over to the text box on Zoom and hit ctrl-v. Success! The code was pasted. Christine knew how to use her laptop well enough to get what she needed done, but Meg was definitely more tech savvy. 

The screen took a moment to load and then Dr. DuBois appeared. He was a kind looking older gentleman with spectacles perched on his nose and wrinkles around his eyes. “Good afternoon, my dear,” he greeted her warmly. “What have you prepared to sing for me today? I’d like to hear your range and get a good sense of your voice. You’re a high soprano, yes?” Christine nodded quickly. “Excellent. Whenever you’re ready, my dear.”

Christine shuffled her music, feeling her nerves return. She’d sung for the much more formidable masked man days ago and made it through without a tremor, surely she could manage for this man as well? She sang a cappella, and Dr. DuBois smiled as soon as she began. “Brava, my dear! You have a gift. I know just the song to work on. Are you familiar with Faust? Marguerite has an excellent aria and I think it would sound divine with your voice.” He flipped through a book, seeking the music.

Christine hesitated before quietly asking, “Are you the only private music teacher with the school?”

He looked at her for a moment. “Tired of me already?” Though his face was serious, his eyes twinkled with teasing mischief. “No, I’m one of five or six, I believe. We just brought on a new teacher, a Professor Khan.” He resumed searching through the book.

“Do any of them wear a mask?”

Dr. DuBois looked at her curiously. “We all do when in each other’s company, of course. It’s mandated by both the state and the school.”

“Oh!” Christine blushed. Foolish girl, of course he wouldn’t understand such a vague question. “I mean a full mask, one that covers the entire face. A black one…”

He shook his head, looking at her oddly. “No, none of them wear full masks, my dear, why-ever would they?”

Christine’s heart sank. She should have known it wouldn’t be so easy to learn the identity of her mystery teacher. “No reason, I was just wondering.” Great, now Dr. DuBois likely thought her insane. 

Whatever he thought, he appeared to let it go. “Aha! I have found your aria. I will scan the music and email it to you. It’d be good if you looked it over once or twice before our next lesson. Have a good day, my dear.”

She gave him a wave that was much more enthusiastic than she felt and ended the call. Her phone screen lit up with a notification. The send was “E. Mulheim”, a name she didn’t recognize. Curious, she opened it.

“Miss Daae,

Attached is a song I would like you to look over. I would like to hear you sing this evening at 9pm sharp. Please be punctual, I do not like to be kept waiting. Do not eat an hour before your lesson and drink only water. I will teach you my warm ups and we will revise your atrocious posture. How you managed such crystalline notes while slouching is a true mystery.

Prof. Mulheim.”

Professor… so he must teach  _ somewhere _ , right? Her eyebrows raised when she saw the song he had attached. The Jewel Song from Faust. Her mysterious teacher and Dr. DuBois were of the same mind, it seemed. She printed the song and glanced it over. Marguerite was a difficult role and the Jewel Song was a formidable piece. They must have real faith in her ability to assign her this song as her first aria. She was already somewhat familiar with Faust; she’d attended the opera with Annette and Meg years ago when her father was alive and a violinist in the orchestra. She had tried to focus on the opera, but it was only so interesting to a thirteen year old. What had really captured her attention was her papa. He did not rely on the sheet music, having no need for it. His eyes were closed through most of the piece and he played with a passion that would make one believe the music was inscribed in his very soul. He was fascinating to watch. He had instilled a love of music in her from a young age, passing his reverence and respect for the arts to his daughter. She wanted to make him proud. 

Christine had little talent for playing instruments. She could pluck out a few easy tunes on the piano, after much patience from her father in teaching her. She had absolutely no skill with the violin. But her voice… Her voice could make angels weep, her papa had said. She’d often wondered in later years if his words were nothing more than personal bias. But Dr. DuBois and Professor Mulheim both seemed to be impressed with her voice...

She sat at the tiny keyboard and plucked out some of her notes, singing under her breath. The song wasn’t so difficult. Plenty of high notes to showcase her range and the opportunity for vocal trills that would hopefully impress her teachers. As time drew nearer for her lesson with Professor Mulheim, she regretted neglecting her voice as she had over the last five years. Her voice was much weaker than it used to be and she wasn’t certain she could sustain the highest of Marguerite’s notes. If they went over them too many times, her voice would wear out. She was going to need to practice more. Her paltry exercises so far had been quick warmups she’d learned in highschool and going over a couple songs she liked but had never extensively studied. She’d treated it more like a hobby than a career. Now that she had two impressive teachers willing to train her, she needed to take it seriously. 

Christine ate a light dinner, just a small chicken breast and some broccoli, which she mostly picked at. She was nervous for her lesson that evening, but even more than that, she was excited. Something about the mystery surrounding him added a thrill to this secret rendezvous.

_ Finally _ , it was time for the lesson. Using the code he’d included in his email, she pasted it into Zoom and joined the call. She wasn’t expecting what she saw.

The man before her had the same dark hair, though smoothed back away from his face. His skin was terribly pale and he wore a burgundy dress shirt, the top few buttons undone. But his mask was different. This mask was white and porcelain and only covered one half of his face. The half she could see, while severe and frowning, was quite handsome. His features were sharp, a black eyebrow gracefully arched over his eye, a well-sculpted nose, and thin lips that were set in a hard line. Professor Mulheim was… kinda gorgeous. She could only imagine what he hid under the other half of his mask. 

“Good evening, Miss Daae.” There was that lyrical voice again. How could a voice sound so beautiful but so threatening? There was a coldness behind it and she realized he really was lacking  _ any _ warmth. 

“Good evening, Professor.” She offered him a timid smile. “It’s nice to see your face this time. Much less intimidating.”

He watched her for a moment, his face impassive. “I wear the black one for business meetings.”

“Do you consider a voice lesson a business meeting?” He really was an enigma.

His brow creased in confusion. “No. Miss Daae, I was expecting… someone else when I accepted you into the call, not a young soprano ready to sing for me. I believe you joined the wrong call.”

“I had the code.” She frowned. “Why did you let me sing?”

He gestured behind him to the wall of instruments. “I am a musician, little songbird. A young soprano appeared on my screen and told me she was my vocal lesson, I was intrigued. Lucky for you that I was. I am quite the renowned musician, you know.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a proud smile. 

“But you go by professor, aren’t you a teacher?”

“Yes, I am. I teach architecture for the University. I was brought on with my colleague, Professor Khan. Unfortunately, the school did not need two music teachers, but I assure you, I am more than qualified.” His face remained proud. He was very arrogant, but Christine didn’t doubt him. Something about the authority he spoke with kept her from questioning him. “Now, we’ve wasted enough time. Please stand.”

“You called it ‘The University’.” Christine spoke as if she hadn’t heard him. “How did you know I would know which school you spoke of?”

His features hardened for a moment with impatience. “There was a school pennant on the wall behind you when we first met.”

“Oh.” That made sense. She rose from her desk and moved back so that he could see all of her. He led her through several new warmups and exercises, nodding frequently but saying very little outside of instructions. 

“Do you have the music I sent to you?” She nodded and retrieved it. “Good. We will take it line by line.” They spent the next hour on it, until he told her to stop and plunged a hand through his hair in frustration, dislodging several strands. His disheveled state only served to make him a bit more attractive, Christine noted. “You can sing the notes, Miss Daae, you know the words, but you are lifeless! Where is your passion? Can you not act? You and Marguerite must be one! You must channel her emotions! Let them flow through you and pour out in song! You have the makings of a great singer but you are totally dead!”

Her eyes stung with tears and she willed herself not to cry. “Again then, professor. Let me try again.” He gave a short nod and played the opening notes. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and sang. She let herself move with the music, felt Marguerite’s joy as if it were her own, and the notes that came out were stunning in clarity and emotion. She hadn’t sung like this in years. 

Professor Mulheim gave her the briefest smile. “That was an improvement. I want you to remember how you felt, Miss Daae. You should always sing like that. It would be a crime to give anything less. You must submit all of yourself when you sing, your entire soul. I demand it.” His voice was low, igniting a quiet fire that burned within them both. She knew he understood music like her papa had, that his very being was composed of it. “We will end the lesson here. I will send you a new code next week. This will be our regular time. Goodnight, Miss Daae.” 

Again, he did not wait for her response before ending the call. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for your reviews! It truly makes my night!

Christine found it hard to sleep after her lesson with Professor Mulheim. She still had so many questions and knew nothing about him, other than the fact that he wore a mask (but at least half his face was absolutely flawless). Maybe he just liked to be mysterious. 

She opened the school’s website and searched the faculty. There was no entry on Professor Mulheim. She did find his colleague, Professor Nadir Khan. Khan was an olive-skinned man looking to be around the same age as Professor Mulheim. But where Mulheim was stern and cold, Khan was all warmth, his smile extending even to his eyes. There was genuine friendliness and kindness in his face. He looked much nicer than his colleague; she wondered why he’d ever be friends with Professor Mulheim. 

Nadir’s bio said he’d come to the school from France, where he’d been the music director for the Paris Opera. There was little else written about him. Searching the school’s directory, she found his teacher email and jotted it down. 

Turning to google, Christine tried to search “Professor Mulheim”. No luck. She added the University name and still found nothing. A first name would certainly help. She clicked back to the school’s directory and searched for his name, but it was the same as his email; E. Mulheim. Christine pouted at the screen, willing it to give her the information she desired. 

She searched Nadir Khan and found his facebook page.  _ You’re getting into stalker territory _ , she thought to herself as she scrolled through his friends list and photos. Professor Mulheim was nowhere to be seen. She came across a blurry video and could make out Nadir’s face and what she thought was a piano in the corner. She clicked play. Nadir grinned at the camera while notes played a song she didn’t recognize. He slowly turned the camera to show the pianist. Professor Mulheim was playing, his eyes closed and allowing the music to be his guide. The video focused on him for several moments, until he opened his eyes and scowled at the camera. “Nadir! Stop that!” The video ended. That was all she could find of Professor Mulheim on Nadir’s facebook page, but at least she’d confirmed that they knew each other. Christine glanced at the email she’d written down. Would he be willing to answer some questions? Or would he and Mulheim both find her intrusive?

Christine let out a sigh. For now, she’d have to remain in the dark. 

~*~*~*~

_ Professor Mulheim stood in front of her, looking devilishly handsome in the white mask with his hair mussed and his shirt half undone. He wore black breeches that hugged his waist snugly; she wore a white dressing gown over a sheer nightdress. There was mist swirling around them. She should feel colder, but the closer he got, the warmer she became. He leaned in until their lips almost touched. “Miss Daae,” he breathed, his voice low. His slender fingers brushed her jaw. Her eyes fluttered and her lips parted for his kiss.  _

Christine woke with a small gasp, turning a deep shade of red. She stared up at the ceiling, reliving the final moments of her dream. He’d had more of an effect on her than she’d realized!

Christine brushed it off as a silly dream, resolving not to think on it further. 

Her weekend was quiet, she finished cleaning the apartment and finished what little school work she had. Meg came home Sunday evening and disappeared into her bedroom, tired from her bus ride. Christine was about to rise when her phone buzzed with a new email. Her heart jumped a little to see the sender; E. Mulheim. She opened it immediately.

“Miss Daae,

I have been reliably informed that my yelling at you was rather rude. When I relayed our lesson to my friend and colleague, Professor Khan, he insisted that I should apologize to you. So I apologize. 

I do hope you understand that I was merely trying to draw a better performance from you, something I knew you were capable of. You did not disappoint me. I will attempt to refrain from yelling at you in the future.

Sincerest apologies,

Professor Mulheim”

Christine smiled faintly. She opened a new email to reply but couldn’t find the words. All she had were questions he, no doubt, would not answer. She decided to leave it alone. 

~*~*~*~

Wednesday was the busiest day of the week for Christine. She had to make an appearance at the school for her lab, and had a lesson with Dr. Dubois scheduled for the afternoon. 

Donning a red mask, Christine bid Meg goodbye and hoped her roommate wouldn’t realize she was leaving an hour earlier than she needed to. The University was a short walk from her apartment. Christine went in the front entrance, had her temperature taken in the foyer, and was allowed to enter the school. She decided to start on the second floor, where most of their teachers had their offices. She walked along slowly, reading the name on each door. The very last door was Professor Khan, across from it,  _ at last _ , was Professor Mulheim. The door’s small window was covered with a red curtain. She could tell it was dark inside but she tried the handle. _ Damn! _ It was locked. She turned to Professor Khan’s door, only to find it in a similar state.

Most classes were online, and the teachers didn’t need to come in every day, but she was hoping to catch one of them there. Khan was a music teacher though. Perhaps he’d be upstairs near the practice rooms. 

Professor Khan was nowhere to be found, but as she passed one of the practice rooms, she caught the faint notes of a piano. She stopped. The piece was intricate and played without any errors. Whoever was playing was very talented. Could it be him?

She very slowly opened the door, just a sliver, and drew in a sharp breath. Though his back was to her, she was positive it was Professor Mulheim seated at the piano. The music stopped. She watched as he lifted a pen to the sheet music propped in front of him and scratched out a note. He turned around suddenly and she jumped back, the door shutting with an obvious click.

Christine froze. She heard him walk to the door, saw the knob turn. Her heart was pounding in her chest. 

She ran. 

Much to her relief, he did not pursue her. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath. She had almost been in the same room as him, had almost come face to face!

Christine decided to go sit outside her lab until the appointed time, taking the stairs to the first floor. Her phone buzzed and she glanced at it. An email from Professor Mulheim. Her heart dropped. 

With trembling fingers, she tapped the notification. It simply read. “It’s rude to spy on people.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. He had seen her! And worse, he had recognized her!

She opened a new email and quickly replied. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Christine hoped he’d believe he was simply mistaken. His voice came from behind her, low and soft in her ear. “Is that so?” She yelped and whirled around, but there was no one there. She looked around wildly for a moment, clutching her textbook to her chest. He wasn’t there. Her guilt at lying to him must have conjured up his voice. 

She was more than eager to get home. She dashed into her classroom to wait for the lesson. Christine could barely focus on the class, her mind on the close encounter. 

“Christine?” She broke out of her thoughts, looking to the boy who had just walked up to her. He was smiling, though it was hard to tell with a mask covering half his face, and extended his hand. “I’m Raoul. I guess we’re gonna be lab partners.” She shook his hand quickly. Raoul took the seat beside her, scooting a little closer than she would have liked. They were supposed to be practicing social distancing, all the other teams kept a safe distance between them, but he either didn’t care or didn’t think about it. He was friendly and certainly very kind. Christine conducted most of the experiment while he chatted mindlessly about classes and his major and his plans after school. He took notes for them while she put away their equipment. 

“Here.” He passed her a small slip of paper with his number on it. She looked up at him. “So we can talk about the homework or study together or... something.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the ground sheepishly. 

Christine accepted it and nodded. “I’ll text you later so you have my number.”

“Can I walk with you?”

She hesitated. “I only live across the street. I’ll see you later though.” 

Christine rushed out of the building, leaving him to stare after her. She dashed across the street, seeking the comfort of her apartment. Professor Mulheim had not responded to her email. She was absolutely mortified. And there was something about her new lab partner. Something familiar. She felt as though she’d seen those blue eyes before. 

With her head down and engaged in her thoughts, she didn’t see the man she then promptly barreled into. He left out a soft “oof”. Christine fell back onto her bottom on the crosswalk. “I’m sorry!” She looked up, right into the kind eyes of Professor Khan. 

He helped her to her feet and out of the road. “Forgive me, mademoiselle, are you hurt?” 

“No, I’m alright. Thank you. You’re professor Khan, right?” She dusted herself off.

Khan looked at her for a moment. “Yes. Forgive me, are you one of my students?”

“Oh! No, sorry. I know Professor Mulheim and he mentioned you and I looked you up on the school website.” She was grateful that mask mostly hid her flaming cheeks. 

“Ah.” His eyes cleared with understanding. “You’re Miss Daae, aren’t you?” A hot flash raced across her cheeks. Professor Mulheim had told him about her, more than just that he was rude to his student. He’d told him her name!

She nodded and his eyes twinkled, she knew he was smiling. “Professor Mulheim doesn’t take on private students. You must be very talented.” 

“Thank you… But, there’s nothing about him on the school website. Did he come from France, like you? Where did he study music? And if he’s such a good musician, why is he teaching architecture?” The questions just came bursting forth. Christine had always been a curious girl, asking questions she shouldn’t. 

Khan held up his hands. “Apologies, mademoiselle. My friend is very private. If you want the answers, you must ask him yourself.”

“He’s very…”, she hesitated, seeking the right word. “Strict. He doesn’t really make small talk.”

Nadir let out a short laugh. “Yes,” he mused. “That is his way. He doesn’t warm up to people very quickly. Don’t fret, it’s nothing personal. Forgive me, mademoiselle, it was lovely to make your acquaintance but I must be going.” He gave her a nod and crossed the street. 

Christine watched him go, wondering if he would tell Professor Mulheim about their encounter. At that moment, her phone buzzed. An email from Professor Mulheim. 

“Terribly annoying, isn’t he?” 

Her head snapped up and she searched the windows of the school, looking for him. She looked back at the email. Was he… toying with her? Was this his revenge for catching her spying on him, doing the same to her mock her? She cast one last glance at the school before hurrying to her apartment. 

~*~*~*~

“Christine, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost!” Meg exclaimed, when Christine burst into their apartment, out of breath and her cheeks stinging from the crisp fall air. 

“I’m alright.” She forced a smile, breathing heavily. “I thought someone was following me and got a little scared. But I’m safe now.” 

Meg frowned. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Christine nodded, making her way towards her bedroom. “Just a small scare, that’s all. I need to remember my pepper spray next time.” She always felt silly carrying it with her when the school was just across the street. She closed her bedroom door and leaned against it. She didn’t know what to think. Had Professor Mulheim been watching her. Had he watched her entire interaction with Nadir? Had he been nearby, or just happened to look out the window at the right time? She had so many questions! It seemed the longer she knew him, the more she had!

She opened up his email again and considered a reply. She typed “It’s rude to spy on people” and sent it to him. 

His response came seconds later. “Touche, Miss Daae.”


	4. Chapter 4

Christine was nearly late for her lesson with Dr. DuBois. After she caught her breath and her heart stopped pounding in her chest, she signed in to the call. 

“Good afternoon, my dear. Did you get a chance to look over the music I sent you?” Christine nodded. “Excellent. I’ll put the CD in and we’ll begin.”

Christine couldn’t help but think that if the lesson had been with Professor Mulheim, he’d be accompanying her himself. She did a quick warm up before they began the song. Christine sang all the way through while Dr. DuBois observed, impressed. 

“My dear, I did not expect you to memorize the entire song. I fear I may have to break some habits though, as the way you’ve been practicing is not the way to sing it. Your stance, my dear, is all wrong. Do you have a pencil?” He slowly worked through the song with her, telling her where to mark breaths and making notes on the shapes of her mouth. “You move too much when you sing, stand still and try again.” Every note he gave her seemed to contradict Professor Mulheim. It felt like a betrayal. 

Friday evening, Professor Mulheim behaved as though she had,  _ indeed _ , betrayed him. . He stopped her halfway through the song, slamming his hands on the keys in a discordant crash. “What foolish  _ idiot _ told you to sing like this? This is not how you sang a week ago. You are completely stiff! You lack emotion! What has happened to you?”

“My teacher, Dr. Dubois-”

“No!  _ I  _ am your teacher. My lessons are to be your  _ sole  _ lessons or I will not teach you.”

“The school assigned me to him. Our lessons are part of my curriculum. I can’t just stop seeing him, and he expects me to follow the notes he gave me.”

“You will disregard every  _ single _ note.”

“I told you, I can’t!”

“Nor can you sing like that!” He gripped the corners of his piano, frustrated and trying to reign in his anger. After a moment, he let out a breath and sat back. “You will request a change.”

“I will still have to work with an instructor and you’re not a music teacher!”

“You will request Professor Khan, but you will work with me. I will tell him what to write in his reports.”

Christine hesitated. “Will he be alright with that?”

Professor Mulheim did not respond, turning to the keys. “Now, forget everything your Dr. DuBois told you. Remember how you sang for me before.” He played the opening notes. Christine closed her eyes and sang, letting the music flow through her like before. It felt so much better when he accompanied her, when he followed her singing, rather than being forced to follow along to a recording. 

When the song ended, he rose from the piano. “That was significantly better, little songbird. You should never listen to someone who tells you to refrain from singing with passion.” He shuffled through some music. “I have another piece I’d like for you to learn.”

She noticed the piece was handwritten. “Did you write it?”

He nodded. “It was written for…” he hesitated, “a singer like yourself.” He turned his face away, presenting her with the masked side of his face. Her intimidating professor was blushing. 

“Is that what you were working on the other day?”

Professor Mulheim looked at her sharply, his eyebrow rising. “I thought you were not spying?”

Christine’s eyes widened. She’d given herself away! “I didn’t  _ mean _ to spy! I just wanted to know who was playing so well.”

“Why did you run?” His question was quiet, almost as though he were afraid to ask.

She hesitated, searching for words. “I… I was embarrassed. You caught me…”

He looked at her for a long moment. “Well, I hope next time you will stay and introduce yourself.” 

Christine nodded. “I will.” 

**~*~*~*~**

The school had given her a little trouble, but eventually agreed to allow her to switch instructors. Professor Khan allowed Professor Mulheim total control over her lessons and she made fast progress. Christine went up to the school a few more times for labs, but avoided the music department. Raoul was always waiting for her when she entered the school and would remain at her side until she left. He was like a puppy, a stray she couldn’t seem to get to leave her alone. For two months, he asked her out, and each time, she declined and left him behind in the classroom. He eventually followed her out one day, trying to convince her to get coffee with him at a nearby cafe. What could it hurt? Christine relented. 

Raoul held the door open for her and insisted on paying for her coffee. It wasn’t until they sat with their mugs and he pulled his mask down that everything fell into place. “Raoul!” She sat up, staring at him. He jumped, nearly spilling his coffee. “I didn’t recognize you! Why didn’t you say anything before now?” She hadn’t seen him since they were both nine and had happened to meet while on vacation. They’d only spent two weeks together but had been fast friends and cried when they went their separate ways. Over time, she’d stopped thinking about him as much. Christine had believed she’d never see him again, and he’d been her lab partner for two months!

He laughed, grinning sheepishly. “I didn’t think you remembered me. I didn’t want to be weird.”

Her phone buzzed and she glanced at it. An email from Professor Mulheim. “Coffee is bad for your voice.” She looked around but, as usual, she didn’t see him. 

She responded. “You could join us, instead of spying.”

His voice was low in her ear. “Spying is much more fun.” She jumped, looking for him again. 

“Christine?” Raoul looked concerned. “What’s wrong?” 

She shook her head. “Nothing, I’m sorry. Thought I heard someone calling me.” She quietly sipped her coffee, feeling as though Professor Mulheim was still watching, though she couldn’t be sure. She rose to leave as soon as her drink was gone. “Thank you for the coffee, but I need to get home.” She pulled her mask up over her mouth and didn’t wait for his response. Christine passed by the school on her way to the crosswalk. She hesitated, turning to face the building. Had he returned after grabbing coffee? Would she find him in a practice room? Steeling her nerves, she entered the school. 

Christine was surprised at her own disappointment when finding the practice rooms dark and vacant. She went down to the second floor and found herself in the hallway of offices. The light in Professor Mulheim’s was on. Her breath caught. She lifted her hand, about to knock, when the door opened and Professor Khan bumped into her. 

“Oh! Miss Daae! Pardon me, I didn’t realize you were right outside the door. Are you here for Professor Mulheim?”

She shook her head. “N-No! I’m sorry, I was just lost! I heard voices and was going to ask for directions! I think I need to go this way!” She all but ran back down the hall. Christine went around the corner and paused to catch her breath. Once again, Professor Mulheim’s voice was in her ear, accusatory and almost angry. “Why did you run?” She straightened her spine, turning around. The hallway was empty. Was she losing her mind? But then she heard his voice again. “Come to me.” She took a slow, hesitant step towards his office. “Come here, little songbird. No more running. No more games.” She took another step, then stopped. 

“No.” She shook her head. Why was she so afraid to see him in person? 

“Do you fear me, Miss Daae?”

Before she could answer, a hand gripped her wrist. Christine jumped, turning. “Raoul?” 

Concern filled his kind blue eyes. “Christine, who were you talking to? There’s no one else here!”

“I was just talking to myself.” She took a step away from him. “Did you follow me?” 

Raoul nodded, holding out her textbook. “You left this, I just wanted to return it to you. Are you ok, Christine? You look pale.”

Christine assured him she was fine, but he insisted on walking her back to her apartment. He kept his arm around her shoulders, which she didn’t really mind. He was warm and it was chilly out. Christine let him come up to her apartment. 

Meg was lounging on the couch, sitting up when they entered. “You brought a boy home?”

“Meg!” Christine threw her mask at her. “He’s my lab partner, that’s all.”

Raoul pulled his mask down and shook her hand. Meg murmured, “Why is your lab partner a model?” Christine discreetly kicked her shin. She supposed Meg was right though, Raoul really was handsome, especially when she could see his whole face. 

Christine led Raoul down their small hallway to her bedroom. “Since you’re here, I suppose we could study for the exam.” She placed her textbook on her desk. Raoul was silent, walking to her and gently sliding his hands up her arms, drawing her to him and leaning down to press his lips to hers. Christine closed her eyes, leaning in to him. 

Raoul took a step back, smiling. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” Christine blinked up at him. She’d rarely spoken to him outside of class. Sure, they’d played together as kids, but she barely knew him. 

He moved in to kiss her again, but she gently pushed him back. “Let’s… let’s take this slow, ok?” Raoul nodded, though she could tell he was disappointed. He stayed for a while and they quizzed each other, until they both felt confident they would pass the exam. She walked him down to the lobby of her building. “Goodnight, Raoul.”

“Goodnight, Christine.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek before pulling his mask on and leaving. 

Christine watched him for a moment. He was sweet and certainly very kind. He was intelligent and handsome. There really wasn’t anything wrong with him, so why was she so unsure?

She took the stairs up to her apartment and, as expected, was immediately ambushed by Meg when she entered. “Is he your boyfriend? Why haven’t you mentioned him before? Is he who you talk to on Friday nights?”

Christine frowned. “Do you listen to my calls?”

“Well, no…” Meg looked away. “But sometimes I can’t help but hear. The walls aren’t that thick.”

“Just… just mind your own business!” Christine brushed past her, fleeing to her room. Meg stared after her.

**~*~*~*~**

Raoul started to become a regular at their apartment. He was friendly to Meg, who’d often wiggle her eyebrows suggestively at Christine before giving them some space. Raoul and Christine studied frequently, but their activities became more casual as she relaxed around him. Gentle kisses on the cheek became tentative kisses on the lips, which evolved to nervous exploration. Christine never let them go past fondling, much to Raoul’s disappointment. He was a gentleman, however, and never let her know how desperately he wanted more. 

Professor Mulheim rarely emailed her anymore, except to send her the zoom code for each lesson. On the last Friday before final exams began, he did not ask her to sing, seeming more tense than usual. 

“Miss Daae, there is something I wish to discuss with you.”

Christine nodded, worried by how unusual he was acting. 

“The songs I have been teaching you are from a new opera.  _ My  _ opera. And it is playing a limited engagement in Paris that happens to coincide with your semester break. I want you…” Even through the screen, his eyes seemed to burn into hers. “I want you for the lead.”

She gaped at him. “You want me to go to Paris over winter break and perform in your opera?”

He nodded. 

“What about the virus? I can’t just leave, I have responsibilities here!”

“The theater has been working to ensure that there will be minimal risk. Cast and crew will have their temperature taken before each rehearsal. You needn’t worry about the virus as long as you remain sensible.” His jaw hardened. “Perhaps, you do not wish to leave your little boyfriend.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How often  _ do _ you watch me, Professor?”

“I have not spent months training your voice just to lose you to some boy!” He spoke as though he hadn’t heard her. His voice suddenly turned sinister. “He’s in my class you know. Lacking in imagination, but he does try. It would be a shame if, after all his hard work, he were to fail the class. It would certainly hinder his degree.”

Christine stared incredulously at him. “Are you _ threatening to fail him _ if I don’t agree to sing?”

“The choice is yours, Miss Daae. The opportunity of a lifetime or a quiet holiday with a boy who can’t pass Architecture 101.” 

She glared at him. “Fine. I’ll do it.” 

He grinned at her, a wicked, triumphant smile that made her feel sick. “Excellent.”

“But I want your word that he’ll pass the class.”

Professor Mulheim scowled. “Yes, yes, he’ll pass. I can give him a B minus.”

“Thank you.” She sighed. “When do we leave?” 

“Next Wednesday, as soon as you are finished with your final exam. I am going ahead, but Nadir will escort you. I look forward to seeing you in Paris, little songbird.”

The screen went black. Christine sat there a while after, feeling as though she had just entered a pact with the devil. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Let me get this straight.” Meg was still trying to wrap her head around what Christine had just told her. “You’re going on a romantic getaway with a boy you’ve only been dating for a month or so, during a pandemic. Oh, and you’ll be gone for an entire month. Have you lost your mind?”

It pained Christine to lie to her best friend like this, but she knew that if she told her the truth, Meg would try to prevent her from going. She nodded. “I like him a lot, Meg.” She sounded almost as though she were trying to convince herself.

“Do you think you’ll sleep with him?”

“Meg!” 

“You’re going to the freaking City of Love!” Meg threw up her hands, exasperated. “ _ Do _ you love him?”

Christine hesitated. “I don’t know… he’s very sweet. I  _ want  _ to.”

“You can’t want yourself into loving someone, it doesn’t work that way.”

“I know that.” Christine gave her a small smile. “Maybe this trip will help me figure things out.”

Meg took her hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Just… be careful, ok?” Christine gave her a reassuring nod. 

She sat down with Raoul the next evening. Meg was away at her mother’s for the weekend. Immediately, his lips were on hers. With her roommate out of the apartment, he was hoping for a little more than fondling. Christine gently pushed him back. “Not now, Raoul. I wanted to talk.”

Raoul valiantly tried to hide his disappointment, taking her hand. “On Wednesday, Meg and I are leaving for Paris. She has some family there, we’ll be spending the semester break with them.”

“Oh.” His face fell. “I wanted to introduce you to my parents over the holiday.”

Christine squeezed his hand. “There’s always spring break.” 

He nodded. “Yeah.” He sighed. “I’ll miss you. But you’ll text and call right?”

“Yes, of course.” She comforted herself with the fact that it wasn’t really a lie. She would  _ try _ , she just wasn’t sure what it would be like alone in Paris with Professor Mulheim. They watched a movie together but, the mood was subdued and she knew he had wanted the night to go differently. Raoul kissed her goodnight and left as soon as it ended. 

Christine made sure to get all her packing done over the weekend. She was only taking one suitcase and had absolutely no idea what she might need but truthfully, her wardrobe was small, leaving her without many options to choose from. Meg kept her company Sunday evening as she tucked a few items into her suitcase. 

“No lingerie?” Meg held up a white lacy bra. “Why not take this?”

Christine’s cheeks flamed red. “Meg! Don’t go through my undergarments!”

“Undergarments, Christine? You’re such an old lady sometimes.” 

“Oh, fine!” She snagged the matching panties from her drawer and tucked the matching set into her luggage. “Happy now?” Meg nodded, unable to keep from grinning. 

Wednesday afternoon, Christine and Meg hugged goodbye in their apartment. “Text me when you get there, ok?”

Christine nodded. “Of course. Have a good holiday, Meg.”

“You too.” She kissed her friend’s cheek and they both wiped away tears before Christine walked down to the lobby. Nadir was waiting outside with a black car, and opened the door for her. Christine took one last look at her building before getting in. 

Christine and Nadir made quiet small talk on the drive to the airport. She was distant, occasionally nodding, or answering with a soft “hmm”. They went through security with minimal fuss, and silently waited to board. Christine fiddled nervously with her fingers. He would be waiting for them in Paris. Once she boarded the plane, there was no going back. 

During the flight, he finally spoke. “Miss Daae, forgive me, but you don’t seem excited. Is everything alright?”

She nodded. “I just… don’t like flying.”

Nadir nodded, though he wasn’t convinced. He didn’t know her well enough to press further. 

There was a car waiting for them when they landed in France. The drive to the hotel only took about a half hour, and during that time, Christine eagerly gazed out the window, soaking up all of Paris. “It’s beautiful here.”

Nadir nodded. “Erik and I are always happy to come home.”

She tore her gaze away from the window to look at him. “Is that Professor Mulheim’s first name?”

His brow furrowed. “He hasn’t told you yet? I was under the impression that you two were… close.”

Christine shook her head. “He’s my teacher. Nothing more.”

Nadir was silent. They pulled up in front of the hotel and Christine stared in awe, her mouth falling open. “ _ This _ is where we’re staying?” 

The Shangri-La Hotel. Christine had heard of it before, but never dreamed she’d ever set foot inside. Wasn’t it terribly expensive? There’s no way Erik could afford a room on a teacher’s salary. Nadir helped her out of the car. “Erik has procured a beautiful set of rooms.”

She followed him inside, gazing in astonishment at the opulence and splendor of the hotel. He led her up to the second floor, to L'appartement Prince Bonaparte. She stared at Nadir as though he’d sprouted a second head. “You’re kidding.” Nadir chuckled and gently pushed open the door.

The room was stunning, decorated in a light blue and gold, with intricate details covering every surface. It was an impressive room, but Christine barely noticed. Her eyes were drawn to the man in front of the fireplace with his back to her, his hands clasped behind him. 

Erik was taller than she’d imagined, and when he finally turned to look at her, she felt her heart skip a beat. His eyes burned into hers. “Miss Daae.”

Christine took a few tentative steps towards him. “Professor-”

“No, little songbird. Do not call me Professor.” He moved closer to her and his hand lifted to ghost his fingertips along her jaw. She shivered at the contact, her eyes fixated on his. “My name is Erik.”

Her voice came as little more than a whisper. “Erik…”

“Little songbird…” He trailed his fingers down her neck and her eyelids fluttered. His presence was intoxicating. Nadir quietly closed the door and left them alone, neither of them noticed the soft click of the door. 

“Come, sit, my dear. There’s tea.” He led her over to the little couch and they sank down together. Christine poured herself a cup, very aware of his eyes on her. “You don’t seem angry at me anymore.” He spoke slowly, hesitant. “Have you forgiven me?”

She looked at him, sighing. “I don’t appreciate you using Raoul’s grade as a threat, but I’d be lying if I said I was unhappy with the chance to see Paris and perform.”

Erik placed his hand over hers, gently, and she could tell he was just as uncertain as she was. “I will not use him against you again, but,” he paused, a small smirk playing on his lips, “that is, in part, because you will not have a boyfriend when you return home.”

Christine frowned. “We’ll only be apart for a month. Plenty of other couples have spent longer distances apart and survived.”

“You misunderstand.” He gently crooked his finger under her chin, lifting her to meet his gaze. “I intend for you to leave Paris a married woman.”

“Married…” She stared at him, in a mix of horrified shock. “To you?”

He nodded grimly. “I’m afraid so, my little songbird.” He sat back, lounging against the couch with a cavalier attitude he desperately wished he felt. “You want to be a star, yes?” She opened her mouth but he wagged his finger at her. “Oh, don’t deny it. You’re a singer. You’re not training to be second best.” He tipped his head back, looking at the ornate ceiling. “I can make you a star. I can have all of Paris at your feet. But I cannot risk my star falling to Earth for some boy and running off to have children and a miserable, ordinary life. So you must marry me.”

He sat back up suddenly, so fast she nearly jumped, and cradled her face in his hands. “Christine…” he breathed. “I would be a good husband to you. I will not ask you to fulfil any… wifely duties. Just devote yourself to me and that will be enough.” 

“Can… Can I have some time to think about it?” She couldn’t think straight with his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her lips. It would be all too easy to lean forward, close the distance and taste him. She shouldn’t want to, she should be angry at him for coercing her into coming, but against all reason, her anger had dissipated the moment she saw him. “Erik…” She closed her eyes. If she kept looking at his face, she was going to give in and she needed to be able to think. “We cannot begin anything on a foundation of threats.” 

Christine made quite the alluring picture with her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted. He could almost imagine she  _ wanted  _ him to kiss her. Would she hate him if he tried? “I will not force you, Christine.” He lowered his hands to his lap and she opened her eyes. Was that disappointment he saw? “But please, consider my offer.” They had time, he could afford the illusion of a choice. He lifted her hand and ghosted a kiss across her knuckles. 

“You must be tired from traveling. Let me show you the rest of our rooms so you can bathe, if you wish, and rest.”

He rose and helped her up, the tea forgotten and cold. There was a small dining area with a table that sat eight people and a desk he’d already littered with sheet music. The bedroom had two plush armchairs, pale blue and gold sheets on a large canopied bed, and a small balcony that overlooked Avenue d’lena. Christine looked at the spacious bed and swallowed, feeling another rush of nerves. “You said these were our rooms,” she took a deep breath, “and there is only one bed…”

“Do not fret, little songbird. I rarely sleep. I will not disturb your slumber.” He offered her a small smile. 

“What will you do while I sleep?” 

“I will compose. Operas do not write themselves.” He chuckled. “I will leave you to rest. Tomorrow, we rehearse.” Erik released her hand and left her alone in the bedroom. She watched him go, equal parts relieved and disappointed. 

She opened her suitcase and dug around for her pyjamas. She had two options; a sleep shirt and pants, or a simple pale pink nightgown. It was a warm night and in such a beautiful room, the shirt and pants felt wrong. She changed into the nightgown. 

Christine peered out of the bedroom and spotted Erik seated at the desk, scribbling away. She moved closer to him and he looked up, taking her in. 

“Christine.” His voice was raspier than before. “Is everything alright?”

She stopped in front of him and her nerves failed her. “I just wanted to say goodnight.”

He nodded, smiling a little. “Goodnight, little songbird.” 

“Goodnight, Erik”. She bent down and kissed his unmasked cheek. He gasped softly. Christine straightened and returned to the bedroom, feeling his eyes on her the entire way. 

Christine pulled back the sheets and slid into bed, staring up at the ceiling. It felt odd, to try and sleep while he was in the other room. He was so damn alluring and she thought that, as arrogant as he was, he was probably well aware of the effect he had on her. He was probably laughing to himself right now! Poor Christine, who’d so easily wandered into his trap! She frowned up at the ceiling, crossing her arms over her chest. She’d show him, she wouldn’t let him win so easily. He couldn’t  _ make _ her marry him, after all. She would show him that she was more than capable of resisting him and his damnable caresses and heated gaze! She was not going to be seduced into giving away her soul!

Christine could not imagine that, in the other room, he sat just as she’d left him, his fingertips brushing the ghost of a kiss on his cheek. 


	6. Chapter 6

Christine woke early and crept out of the bedroom to see what the mysterious Erik was up to. He was no longer at the desk, but had stretched out his long body on the couch, snoring softly. Silently, she moved across the room to get a better look.

His face, which was normally set in a frown, looked so peaceful as he slept. His lips were slightly parted as he breathed evenly, and she watched the rise and fall of his chest for a moment. Christine knelt beside him, her eyes exploring his face and learning every detail. During calls, there was always a bit of the blur to the video and last night, with him watching her every move, she didn’t have a moment to really take him in. 

Erik’s shirt was slightly undone, revealing a dusting of light chest hair. He looked so very masculine and she wondered what the rest of him looked like. The indecent thought caused her cheeks to flush. She lifted her hand, her fingertips lightly brushing against the mask. His stormy green eyes flew open and his hand snapped up, gripping her wrist so tightly she cried out. For a moment, they could only stare at each other. “Do not,” he hissed. “ _ever_ touch my mask.” 

Christine nodded and he released her hand. She let it fall to his chest, feeling his muscles jump under her touch. He was silent but tense and, sensing he didn’t _want_ her to touch him, she removed her hand from him entirely. He sat up, looking down at her. Kneeling before him like that, she evoked images he _could not_ linger on, or he’d have a very obvious problem and no way to hide it. 

“Erik…”

_Oh God_ , the soft whisper of his name was almost his undoing. He had to get away from her. He nearly rose but no, no, that would draw attention to his steadily growing problem. 

“Christine.” Damn his voice for betraying him, coming out unusually hoarse. “Go get dressed. We need to head to the opera soon.” She nodded, good girl that she was, and returned to the bedroom. He worked furiously to regain his composure and detached air. 

By the time she returned, he had control over himself again and escorted her to a waiting car. God, it was nice to walk with her on his arm, like any other ordinary man. Though, he was much luckier than any mundane person, for he had the most beautiful woman in the world at his side. He opened the door for her, helping her inside, but she caught the door when he moved to shut it. She looked up at him with those wide, doe-eyes he loved so much. “You’re not coming?”

Bless her and the worry in her eyes, as though she actually wanted him with her. He knew she was probably just anxious to go alone to the theater in a foreign land, but damn it, he’d allow himself the fantasy. 

“No, little songbird, I have another errand to attend to before I go to the theater. Nadir is already there and waiting for you. You’ll be ok.” He offered her a reassuring smile and shut the door. 

The drive to the theater was short and Nadir greeted her, handing her a full libretto. “Most of the cast speak English but not all, if you need me to translate, just wave me down.” They had one week to put together a full opera and Christine couldn’t imagine that was possibly enough time to pull it off. 

What Christine hadn’t realized, however, was that the rest of the cast was already in tech week, familiar with their blocking and lines. This final week was to fit Christine into her place, and the next three would be performances. She felt like a newborn bird trying to fly too soon as she fumbled through the opera, and couldn’t help but be a little annoyed with Erik. If this had been his plan all along, he could have prepared her more! She knew the cast was watching her with dubious eyes and doubted that their frequent French whispers were compliments. Furthermore, the understudy who’d stood in her place for previous rehearsals refused to acknowledge her at all. Christine was well aware the entire cast felt she didn’t deserve the role, she was a nobody, and they probably thought she’d slept her way to the top. 

Christine kept hoping Erik would arrive, but she never saw him. Nadir was giving directions and she noticed that, anytime he was asked a question about the show, he would busy himself on his phone for a moment before giving an answer. Erik’s name was nowhere on the libretto, which she also found strange. As she continued to watch Nadir, she realized he never gave _any_ direction without checking his phone first, and suddenly, she understood why Erik considered himself a renowned musician without showing up in a google search. Nadir was the face, but Erik was the mastermind, controlling his puppet behind the scenes and allowing him the credit. She wondered if it had to do with the mask. 

Finally, the cast took a break for lunch and Nadir approached Christine. “You did very well.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to spare my feelings. I know that was bad.”

“It’s your first rehearsal, my dear. No one expects you to be perfect.”

“The rest of the cast doesn’t like me.” She felt a rush of tears rise to her eyes. Their scorn shouldn’t upset her, but deep down, she felt they were right. She was nothing, a little singer from New York who joined the wrong call by chance and got lucky. She had little prior experience. No one knew who she was. Erik was mad to make her his leading lady and the entire cast knew it!

“Dry your eyes, little songbird.” Christine jumped when Erik’s soft voice caressed her ear, and yet, he was nowhere to be seen. “Come to your dressing room.” 

Nadir was watching her curiously and she wondered if he heard Erik’s voice as well. “Do I have a dressing room?” Nadir nodded and led her backstage. There were several large dressing rooms, shared by most of the cast, and the ballerinas were all crammed into one for lunch, while a stagehand told stories in between bites of a sandwich. At the end of the hall was an aged wooden door with her name taped to it. Christine thanked Nadir and pushed the door open.

The dressing room was larger than the small door had led her to believe. A small couch sat against one wall, opposite a vanity, and her costumes, though still unfitted, hung on a rack in the corner. Erik proudly stood beside a small table and chair in the center of the room. Past him, she could see a wall-length mirror, stretching from floor to ceiling. On the table, there was a tray of small sandwiches, cookies, and a singular candle. He pulled the chair out for her. “I thought I would give you my notes while you ate.”

Christine smiled at him, and he realized it was the first time she had _really_ smiled at him, and closed the door behind her. He thought she would sit in the offered chair, but instead she wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her face in his shirt. For a long moment, he stood there, staring at the top of her wild brown curls, before he gently embraced her. She let out a small sob and he held her tighter. “Christine, what’s wrong?” 

“Why did you give me the lead?”

_It was written for you_ , his mind begged him to reply, _only you could ever play Aminta._

“Christine…” If only he could hold off on giving her an answer and just hold her in his arms. “Christine, do you doubt my ability to choose a suitable lead for _my_ opera? Have I not proven myself to be knowledgeable about such things?”

“Who’s really the music director?” Her voice was muffled, her face still buried in his chest. He liked the vibration of it against his skin, even if there was a shirt between them. “It’s not Nadir, is it?”

Erik chuckled. “Clever Christine, you are correct. I call the shots, he follows orders.”

“Why do you hide? Is it the mask?”

Why did she have to ruin their moment by bringing up his mask? Gently, he pulled away, guiding her to the chair. “Eat, Christine, or you will miss your lunch break.”

He caught her little disappointed sigh but did not acknowledge it, instead giving her what few notes he had taken during the rehearsal. Christine heard Nadir call out from down the hall, reminding the cast that there was only five minutes left of their break. She rose, but Erik caught her hand. 

“Christine…” She turned to him and he floundered for a moment, his words forgotten while lost in her gaze. “You can do this, little songbird. Forget about your cast members, their opinions mean nothing. I will be watching from the shadows of Box Five. If you get nervous, you can tip your sweet face towards my box and sing only for me.” He was relieved to see some of the worry leave her face. If only he could erase all of it, he loathed himself for being the cause. 

She returned to the stage then and he, true to his word, took his place in Box Five. 

Christine did much better, a little more confident in her blocking and allowing her voice to really soar. Erik saw the awe on some of her castmates’ faces, and knew they finally understood why he’d chosen her. 

She was sublime, and by opening night, she’d ascended to divinity. Erik proudly watched from his box as she took her bows, her radiant face pointed at him. Just as he had done after each rehearsal, he went to wait for her in her dressing room, a small bouquet of roses in hand. And there she was, his shining star, running to him absolutely giddy over her success. He caught her in his arms, he was getting used to her embraces. “Christine,” he murmured into her hair. “You were stunning. Your song enraptured all of Paris. Brilliant, my little songbird.”

“Thank you, Erik.” Her arms tightened around him. He allowed himself this moment, as he always did, telling himself each one would be the last he indulged.

“Christine, I can give you a captive audience for the rest of your days. Their applause, their praise, all of it.” She tipped her head up and he cupped her chin. “But you know my condition. Marry me.”

He cursed the uncertainty he saw in her eyes. “Erik… I’m still thinking about it.”

She was going to refuse him, he knew it. He growled low in her ear. “Choose wisely, my dear. I grow weary of waiting.” 

“This is a big decision! I can’t make it lightly!” She tried to end their embrace but he held her to him now.

“Is that really so, Christine? Or are you just humoring me until you can run back to your boy?”

“Erik, stop it. Please-” She was pushing against his chest, trying to escape.

“Answer me, Christine! What is it you want? Stardom or a mundane, disappointing, and pathetic life! You have to choose between us, because I’ll not let you have both!” Why was he doing this? Why was he forcing her inevitable rejection? He hated himself even more.

He released his hold on her and she ran, fleeing, he knew, from the monster she feared. Had always feared. Would _always_ fear. 

If it was a monster she wanted, perhaps he would give it to her. The thought had always been at the back of his mind. He could make her marry him, give her no choice. She seemed especially sensitive to mentions of that damn boy. A little coercion, and he would have his bride. He wanted her to choose him, even if she chose to be a wife in name only. That would have been preferable to the alternative she was leaving him with. 

He watched her disappear around the corner, the sinister thoughts solidifying in his mind. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long since I updated! A lot of real life stuff got in the way. I actually had this chapter almost finished for a while before I finally finished it!(and rewrote a little). I can't promise that I'll update as frequently as I used to, but I will try to do better!

Christine ran blindly down the corridor until she rammed into Nadir. He let out an “oof”, but caught her arms before she could fall, looking at her with concern. “Christine? Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Yes, I… I just need to get some air.”

The worry remained in his eyes, but he offered her his arm. “Come with me. I know a quiet spot where you can get some fresh air and we can talk.”

Part of her wanted to keep running, to put as much distance between herself and Erik as she could, but she also wanted to hear what Nadir had to say. She knew he kept Erik’s secrets, maybe now he’d finally reveal some. Christine took his arm. 

Nadir led her up to the roof and she gasped at the shock of cold air. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground and a steady fall of flakes; they wouldn’t be able to stay long. The wind whipped her already unruly curls into a mess that was going to take hours to undo. He watched her for a long moment, however, she spoke first. “Why did you think Erik and I were closer than we are? What did he tell you?”

Nadir hesitated. “I may have read more into his words than he intended.”

“Did he tell you he was going to ask me to marry him while we are in France?” She was shouting over the wind.

The shock on Nadir’s face was unmistakable. “He never mentioned marriage.”

“What  _ did _ he mention?” She knew he was keeping something from her, but nothing could’ve ever prepared her for what he revealed.

~*~*~*~

Erik was gone when she returned to her dressing room. Christine changed into her street clothes and took a cab to their hotel. He wasn’t there either, so she waited on the couch, her arms crossed. Finally the handle turned and Christine rose to confront him. 

“Why did you ask me to marry you?” He opened his mouth to speak but she shook her head. “Don’t say it’s so I’ll focus on my career. Even if I were to fall in love, I could easily divorce you. Marrying me gives you no guarantees. So tell me the truth. Why did you ask me to marry you?”

Erik gazed silently at her. He knew by the look in her eyes and her quiet, yet determined confrontation that she already knew. It would be better to just say it but, damn him, he couldn’t. He was a coward.

“I haven’t any money, so it’s not that. You mentioned not wanting… intimacy. So tell me why you asked me to marry you.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you think the answer is? You seem awfully sure of yourself, little songbird.” His voice was quiet, deadly. She faltered for the briefest second. 

“Tell me the truth Erik. I want to hear it from  _ your _ lips. Why did you bring me here to star in your opera and become your wife?”

He seized her arms, hauling her against him. How dare she make demands, ones that would ruin everything between them! If he told her… the ease between them would vanish, fragile as it was at the moment. All that they had worked towards would be a waste. He had no doubt she would quit the opera and take the next flight home to her boy. 

She did not fight him this time, only watched him intently. “Tell me the truth, Erik. Tell me… Please… You never tell me anything…”

His grip on her tightened. “I love you!” he snapped. “Is that what you want to hear Christine? I’m in love with you!”

“I know.” She murmured. “Nadir told me.” 

“Then why are you doing this?” He gave her a small shake. “Why are you torturing me?”

“I wanted to hear you say it. Erik, you never tell me anything.” She pressed her hand against his cheek and he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. 

“Does this change your answer?” Did he dare hope?

“I never gave you an answer.”

Erik opened his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart as he waited for the words that would either break it or send it soaring into ecstasy. “Do you have one then? Will you marry me, Christine?”

She hesitated and for a moment he thought she might say no, but instead, she nodded. “Yes. I will marry you.” 

He embraced her tightly, burying his face in her neck. She had agreed! She had agreed of her own free will! He held her close and savored the feeling of her arms around him, holding to him just as tightly.

He did not understand her reasons for marrying him, but he wasn’t going to question them. “Christine…” He murmured her name like a prayer against her skin. She was going to be his wife. All of the angry thoughts from earlier vanished; there was no need for coercion or fear, and, for once, fate had smiled on him. 

~*~*~*~

They were married rather quickly. Christine had not realized that this marriage was far from a spur of the moment question upon her arrival in Paris. He’d had all the necessary documents drawn up, quite a few since she wasn’t a French citizen. He’d also arranged for a civil ceremony, required for all marriages in France, to occur on the weekend before their last week in Paris. 

All of his plans made her a little uneasy. How had he been so certain she would say yes? 

Christine wasn’t entirely sure  _ why _ she had said yes. He intrigued her, and she definitely found him attractive. He stirred up intense feelings, desire, excitement, passion; feelings Raoul had never spurred. Was that love?

“Christine, it’s time.”

His voice drew her from her thoughts and she rose from the bench they’d been waiting on, spaced six feet apart from another waiting couple, taking his arm. Nadir accompanied them to bear witness to their quick little civil ceremony. 

They were allowed to remove their masks for the ceremony, since it was only the two of them, Nadir, and the officiant in the room. Erik held her hands, softly translating everything the officiant read. Christine smiled at him, saying what few lines she had in French, though her pronunciation left much to be desired. He leaned down, very close to her face, until she could feel his warm breath on her lips. She ached for him to close the distance, but he did not, waiting a moment just to convince their witnesses that they were sharing a kiss, and then straightened, bringing her hand to his lips. 

“My wife.” His eyes glowed with happiness, and she brought his hand to her lips, giving it a soft kiss.

“My husband.” The exchanged kisses under heated gazes somehow felt more intimate than if he had taken her right there on the rug.

Nadir insisted on treating them to dinner, taking them to a small bistro near the hotel. It was fairly quiet, the few parties present spaced around the dining area, no one close enough to get a good look at the man in the white mask. Christine enjoyed the food and wine, but she was eager to get home with Erik and begin the wedding night. He had told her he wouldn’t ask for intimacy, but that was before he confessed his love. Surely things had changed now.

Christine was very disappointed when they arrived at their room and he merely wished her a goodnight, ghosting a kiss across her temple. She hesitated a moment, wanting to ask him to join her. But he had shrugged off his jacket and was already seated at the desk, shuffling through his papers. 

Their final week in France was a blur. Christine performed nightly and came home to an empty bed. Her husband was always around, but nothing had changed between them. Christine didn’t know how to change that and now that their return to the U.S. was upon them, she had bigger things to worry about.

Any hope of a smooth reunion with Raoul and Meg was dashed when she found them both waiting at the airport. Erik had travelled with her this time, his business in France concluded, and he had stated that he did not wish to part with his wife, which Christine found both endearing and frustrating. Raoul and Meg both cast wary glances at Erik, before sharing one Christine couldn’t read. 

“Christine Daae!” a different voice called. She frowned, her heart sinking when she recognized it as Annette Giry, who had joined the welcome party.

Christine groaned, turning to Meg. “You told your mother?”

“I was worried, Christine. You told me you went with Raoul, but then he came by the apartment to decorate for a small “welcome home” with the three of us. We didn’t know what was really going on.” Meg darted another glance towards Erik, who, unfortunately, was wearing his full black mask and only served to make him appear more intimidating than he already was. “Considering you came back with a stranger, I think I made the right call.” She lowered her voice. “Christine, are you ok? Who is he?” She squeezed Christine’s hand nervously.

“Meg…” This wasn’t how she wanted to do this. She didn’t know the best way to tell her best friend that she’d eloped with a man she barely knew after he coerced her into going to France, but surely there was a more ideal situation. Maybe over brunch, and with plenty of wine.

Raoul grabbed her hand, his sweet blue eyes clouded with concern. “Christine, what’s going on? Who is he?” 

Christine closed her eyes, mustering her courage. “He’s my husband.” 

Meg gasped, but Raoul went stiff, as though her words had turned him to stone. “Christine, you got married!” Meg squeezed her hand again. “He didn’t force you did he?”

“No.” Christine couldn’t bring herself to look at Raoul. “I married him willingly. He’s my voice teacher.”

“Dr. Dubois? You said he was old! He doesn’t look very old Christine.”

“No, not Dr. Dubois. His name is Erik Mulheim. I suppose now I’m Christine Mulheim.” Her lips twitched in a small smile. 

“Christine.” Her heart despaired at how utterly broken Raoul sounded when he finally whimpered her name. “Do you love him?”

“Raoul, I’m so sorry… I don’t know how to-”

“Do you love him?” His voice was desperate, begging her to say no.

Did she love him? She wasn’t sure yet. But if she said no, she knew Raoul would cling to hope, and she couldn’t do that to him. “Yes, I love him.” Raoul dropped her hand.

Annette was circling Erik, glaring at him. “Christine is like a daughter to me. You took her away to France and married her without asking for my blessing. What sort of man are you?”

Erik was calm under her scrutiny. “I apologize, Madame. Christine did not come to France with the intention of marrying me.”

“But did you go to France with the intention of marrying her?” Damn, the woman didn’t miss a beat.

“I did,” he quietly admitted. “Forgive me, neglecting to speak with you first was an oversight.” Erik didn’t even know who she was, but that didn’t matter. She clearly cared a great deal about Christine. “Allow me to show you the sort of man I am over lunch. Christine can show you the photos, and we can become better acquainted.” 

Annette narrowed her eyes. “There is a pandemic, or have you forgotten? My daughter and I have been extremely careful. We do not go out to eat.” 

Erik didn’t want to have strangers in his home, and after a month away, there wouldn’t be any food to offer them. He needed to go grocery shopping.  _ With my wife _ , he thought fondly. 

“Tomorrow then. My wife and I will prepare a picnic lunch. We can eat in the park, far from anyone else and with plenty of fresh air.”

Annette nodded, still eyeing him warily. “I suppose that will do. I do hope we will be able to see more of your face tomorrow. Very few people choose a mask that covers the entire face.” 

Erik paused, but was saved from answering by Christine’s hand on his arm. “Erik… Meg and I were wondering if I… well, if I’m moving in with you?”

He wrapped his arm around her waist, well aware of the eyes on them, particularly Raoul’s. “My dear, of course. We will collect your things and go home.”

Christine smiled at him, though he could only tell from the way her eyes sparkled. He led her to a waiting car and Christine promised to meet Meg at the apartment. Although he was unable to take his eyes off her, she couldn’t bring herself to look at Raoul.

Meg and her mother helped Christine pack her belongings into boxes and Erik loaded them into the car for her. Christine and Meg exchanged a tight hug. “We need to talk soon,” Meg whispered. “You have to tell me everything. If you need anything, please text me.” Christine felt guilty. She knew Meg was still worried, and she couldn’t blame her. 

“We’ll talk soon, I promise.” She kissed her friend’s cheek and turned to her husband. 

Erik opened the car door for her. “Come, little songbird. It is time to go home.”


	8. Chapter 8

Christine realized, after sliding into the car, that she had absolutely no idea where her new husband lived. Erik followed her in and pulled the door shut, giving a soft “we’re ready” to the driver. Christine nestled into his side and he stiffened, looking down at her in alarm. “Christine? What are you doing?”

“Am I not allowed to sit close to my husband?” She looked up at him with innocent eyes.

He nodded, but she could’ve sworn she saw tears glistening in his eyes. He looked away, riding with her in silence. She didn’t know how long it would take them to get to his home. As they drove, they passed fewer houses and more wooded areas. The driver was clearly well acquainted with their course; he took the many curves on the winding road without ever slowing down. 

After about twenty minutes, she rested her hand on his thigh, and felt his muscles jump under her touch. She glanced up at him, his reaction hidden by the full mask. Slowly, she moved her hand up his leg, until his hand caught her wrist. “C-Christine.”

She couldn’t remember having ever heard him stutter before; he was always so confident and assured in his speech. “Yes?” she asked sweetly.

“Perhaps you should keep your hands to yourself.” He gently moved her hand away, feeling the stirrings of what would soon be an obvious and mortifying problem if she didn’t stop.

“So now I am not allowed to touch my husband?” She pouted at him. “Why not?”

Erik stared down at her, but was saved from having to answer by the car pulling into the driveway. The car had barely stopped before he jumped out, carrying some of her boxes into the house. 

Christine stepped out of the car and stared at the magnificent house before her. Mansion was more of a fitting term. She had known her husband had money, but had no idea he could afford a home like this. It was a private manor, distant from the main road and obscured by trees, with a Gothic exterior that made Christine feel as though she'd stepped back in time. It suited Erik, she thought. It was dark, intimidating, and in need of a little upkeep. Christine lifted a few of her boxes from the trunk and went in search of her husband. The foyer was open, the ceiling two stories high, with halls leading to different parts of the house, and a grand staircase which Erik was ascending. She hurried after him and he led her down a dark hall to one of the many bedrooms. 

“I thought you might like this room.” He shifted his hold on the boxes and opened the door. The room was painted a pale blue and decorated with dark, wooden furniture. She had a bed and a wardrobe, as well as a vanity, a large mirror, and a small fireplace. Christine nodded, but noted, with disappointment, that the bed was too small for the both of them. 

“Where will you sleep?” she asked him innocently.

“My bedroom is just down the hall.”    
  


Christine placed her boxes on the bed and turned to him, but he was gone, the boxes he had carried placed neatly on the floor. 

She didn’t have many belongings; it wasn’t too long before she was unpacked and decided to explore her new home. She wandered the halls, finding most of the doors to be locked. Christine stumbled upon the beautiful music room from their lessons. The house was terribly quiet and dark; more than once, she found herself turned around. Her surroundings slowly grew darker as the sun began to set; she felt increasingly anxious at the prospect of being lost. She headed in the direction of the foyer, but after passing through the same drawing room three times, she realized she was lost. The house was a maze, and she almost felt as though the rooms changed when she wasn’t looking. She started to call for Erik, and let out a shriek when a hand gripped her elbow.

“Christine…” Relief flooded through her body when she heard Erik’s voice. “Christine, where are you?” Erik appeared down the hall in front of her with a glowing candelabra in hand. Christine turned in horror to see who or what was holding her, but found herself alone. She ran down the hall in terror, barreling into her husband. He staggered back a step, but wrapped one arm around her tightly. “Christine, what’s wrong?”

“I… I got lost… And I thought… something touched me.” She sniffled, trying bravely not to cry. 

Erik ran a hand through her hair, smiling a little. “Are you afraid of the dark, my dear?” She nodded. “Forgive me, I am used to it. I’ll have to remember to turn on some lights for you.” 

He led her to the dining room, a long, dreary chamber that housed a ridiculously lengthy table with only two places set for dinner. Ever the gentleman, he pulled back her chair for her, and gently pushed it in when she sat. Christine looked at the meal waiting for them, a feast really, with chicken, potatoes, peas, and a few dishes Christine couldn’t identify. “This is very nice but… when did you have time to cook all this?”

Erik chuckled. “I’m flattered that you think me capable of preparing this much food in the short time we’ve been home. No, this is Buquet’s handiwork. He wanted to make us something special for our first dinner home as a married couple. Sentimental old fool.”

Christine smiled a little. “Who is Buquet? The house is so quiet, it feels like we’re alone.”

“Buquet cares for the property. He uses one of the guest rooms in the left wing. He cooks and performs other menial tasks as well. He does… whatever I need him to. He’s been with me a long time.”

“How did you come to live in this house? Was it passed down through your family?”

Erik chuckled. “No, my dear. I designed and built it, with a little help.”

“Why did you design it like this? It’s so confusing, I swear, I thought the rooms moved on me!” 

“I erm…” Erik took a hasty sip. “I have designed similar buildings for my clients.”

Christine cocked her head. “Houses designed to confuse?”

“To trap.”

She wasn’t quite sure how to respond, looking down at her plate to avoid staring at him. “You are a man of many talents… A composer, architect, designer and magician…”

“You flatter me,” Erik gave her a small smile. “I am just a man.”

After dinner, Erik escorted her up to her bedroom, but she took his hand before he could leave her. “Erik, this house frightens me. I don’t want to sleep alone.”

He had changed into the white half-mask before coming to find her, and she was glad to see more of his face. He stared down at her, clearly thinking hard. 

“I suppose I could keep you company, until you fall asleep.” 

Christine shook her head. He wasn’t getting off that easy. “I want you to sleep next to me, Erik.”

“Christine…” 

She stood on her tiptoes, grabbing his collar and pulling him down to meet her lips. He immediately went rigid. Christine closed her eyes, trying to coax him to kiss her back. She felt his hands on her waist, only to gently push her back. “Christine… You are pushing us dangerously close to the point of no return. Proceed with caution.”

“I am not afraid.” Her voice was soft, but her eyes were determined. 

Her words were all he needed; his mouth descended on hers hungrily, nearly knocking her backwards with the force of his kiss. He cupped the back of her head while the other wrapped around her waist and hauled her against him. He kissed her like a man lost in the desert finally quenching his thirst.

Christine eagerly returned the kiss, pressing her body against his. She could feel the hard evidence of his desire. She lifted her hand to cup his cheek but was met with the cold porcelain. Without thinking, she pulled away the mask, wanting to feel his warm flesh instead. 

Immediately, he stilled, and Christine drew back, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Why did you-?” Her eyes widened at the sight of his face. 

Erik shoved her away from him and she stumbled, falling onto her bottom. She gaped up at him but no words would come. Both his eyes were matching in shape and lit with intelligence, that she could have never imagined the horror that surrounded his right eye. While the left side of his nose was perfectly sculpted, the right side was so sunken in it appeared crushed, scarcely covered with purple skin. The rest of his skin was mottled and red, pulsing and oozing in a way that reminded her of a beating heart. His skin was bloody and raw, no doubt caused by the constant chafing of the mask. 

“God dammit, Christine!” He covered his face, scrambling to grab the mask and put it back in place. “You had to ruin everything, didn’t you? Damn you!” He punched the wall, leaving a hole. Christine scooted backwards. 

Erik advanced slowly. “Why, Christine? I warned you… I told you to never touch my mask!” His voice was a furious roar, Christine had never seen him in such a state. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet. “You wanted to see?” This time he whipped off the mask himself, throwing it to the ground with such force that it shattered. “Go ahead and look! Feast your eyes on the man, your  _ husband _ , who only has half a face! Would you like it to touch it, my dear? Would you like to feel the rotting, oozing flesh that you just  _ had _ to uncover? You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He brought her hand to his face and held it against her cheek. The warm, sticky patches of skin made her squirm. “Is your curiosity satisfied?”

Christine tore away from him and ran. She heard him pursue, chasing her as she blindly rushed through the winding halls. When the echoes of his desperate steps died into silence and only darkness surrounded her, she collided into a solid form that sent her sprawling onto the ground.

“Miss, are you alright?”    
  
“Who are you?” There was a slight tremor to her voice.

“I’m Joseph, the groundskeeper.” He helped her to her feet and she could just barely make out his shape. “There’s no electricity to this part of the house yet. Not safe to wander if you don’t know your way. Follow me.” 

He led her to a large rotunda. The wall-length windows allowed the moonlight to flood the room, and Christine felt a little safer. Relief washed over her and Buquet caught her as her legs gave way. She could finally get a look at her rescuer. Joseph appeared to be around fifty, with a scraggly beard that was starting to go grey and calloused hands that held her firmly. He guided her to a bench by one of the windows. “Are you alright?”

Christine nodded, but her whole body trembled, giving her away. “What happened Miss?”

_ I did a terrible thing _ , she thought, too ashamed to speak of it.  _ I saw his face. _

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

She shook her head quickly. 

“Oh.” He sat there in silence with her, waiting. The silence was deafening and Christine felt compelled to break it, trying to calm her nerves. 

“How long have you worked for him?” Her voice was soft, almost worried he might overhear and find them.

“A long time now, Miss. Years and years. Lost track, if I’m being honest.”

“It’s been months but I still feel like I barely know him.”

“He has… many secrets. Most of them dark. If I were you, I’d get out of here before dawn.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why? Surely he isn’t so sinister that I need to leave immediately? What do you think he’s going to do?”

“He’s never brought home a lady before. I don’t know what fate awaits you. But I’ve worked with him on some of his unholy rooms; Mazes that lead to nothing and rooms with doors that go nowhere. Torture chambers, more like. He takes care of “problems” for people without ever getting his hands dirty. Nothing to show but a room with nothing in it. It’s not his fault if a man just goes mad and blows his own brains out, is it?” He seemed to realize he was rambling, falling silent.

Christine pinched the bridge of her nose. She was starting to realize she’d made a huge mistake. Was she trapped now? 

“I can take you back to your room. But… be careful Miss. You can’t trust him.”

She nodded, rising and taking hold of his arm. He brought her back to her room, and Christine was relieved that Erik wasn’t there. She locked the bedroom door, suddenly feeling safer alone. 

~*~*~*~

Christine was awoken by a knock on the door. She opened it to reveal Erik, who had come to bring her breakfast. She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes; She hadn’t managed more than an hour of sleep. Erik took in her exhausted appearance and looked as though he might cry. “Christine…” he placed the tray on her bedside table and turned to her. He had a new mask in place, identical to the one he’d broken the night before. “I am so, so sorry. I should not have screamed at you.” 

Christine shook her head. “You asked me not to touch your mask. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry, Erik. I should have respected your wishes. I got caught up in the moment.” 

Erik dropped to one knee and tenderly brought her hand to his lips, ghosting a kiss across her skin. She smiled a little, trying not to remember everything Joseph had said. She didn’t want to believe that she had bound herself to a murderer. 

“Breakfast looks lovely. Did you make it, or did Joseph?” 

“Joseph?” Erik watched her for a moment, before rising. “I did. I have not seen Buquet yet this morning.”

He sat with her while she ate. Christine tried to keep her eyes on the tray, hating how he stared at her in silence, keeping perfectly still. She was almost afraid to look at him, but as soon as she was finished, he took the tray from her and left the room. 

Erik took her shopping, and while they were able to amicably choose a meal to make for her friends and select the groceries needed, Christine found that there was a distance between them again, one she felt increase when the Girys arrived with Raoul in tow.

She greeted Meg with a hug, and her friend murmured, “He insisted on coming, we couldn’t stop him.” 

Christine felt Raoul’s eyes on her all through lunch, the attention making her uneasy. Antoinette and Erik exchanged pleasant conversation and Christine knew she was still feeling him out and determining if he was worthy of her surrogate daughter.  _ If only she knew... _

Meg and her mother assisted Erik in cleaning up from the meal. Christine moved to help them but was stopped by Raoul’s hand on her arm. “Christine…” His eyes searched hers. “Can we talk?” 

Christine glanced towards the door Erik had disappeared through with her adopted family before nodding and leading Raoul in the opposite direction. 

Raoul walked along in silence for a long moment, admiring the house. “I thought we were happy.”

“Raoul, please…”

“I wanted you to meet my family. I wanted to ask you to marry me. I didn’t even know you knew my architecture professor, and now suddenly you’re his wife? What am I missing Christine? Were you with him all along too? Did I mean anything to you?”

Christine pretended to be looking at the paintings they were passing. “It’s… complicated.”

“Don’t give me that. I deserve more of an answer.”

She sighed. “Does it truly matter? Nothing I tell you will change where we are now. I went to France with him. I married him.”

“Were you sleeping with him? Is that why you wouldn’t sleep with me?”

“Raoul! That’s none of your business!”

“I have a right to know!”

“You don’t have a right to anything! I don’t belong to you!”

“That much is fucking obvious! You ran off and married another man behind my back! I never pegged you for a whore, Christine.”

Her hand flew up and struck his cheek. “How dare you!”

Raoul rubbed his cheek, but something else caught his eye. They had come to the entrance of the rotunda.

“We never decided anything, never said we were exclusive. I made you no promises.”

“Christine…”

“No, I’m not finished. I wanted to tell you but, how could I? You tell me you love me and look at me with all the adoration in the world. How was I supposed to tell you that I don’t feel the same way and never will?”

Raoul did not respond, placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her out towards the open room. Christine gasped, clamping her hand over her mouth. The ceiling arched in a magnificent ivory dome and there, at the highest point, hung Joseph Buquet.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter to make up for the wait!

Erik had just finished wiping the last dish clean when Raoul and Christine entered the kitchen. He offered his wife a small smile, but she did not return it. 

Meg was drying her hands by the sink and Madame was packing leftovers into the fridge, both of them turning to greet Raoul and Christine.

“Miss Giry,” Raoul ordered harshly. “Get your things. We’re leaving, as soon as I call the authorities.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. 

“For whatever reason?” He glanced at Christine's pale face.

“You know the reason.” Raoul spat. “You are nothing but a monster. I bet you tricked Christine into marrying you, too!”

“Raoul.” Christine said softly.

Ignoring her, Raoul continued to accost Erik. 

“I am taking her and we are leaving. You are never to come near her again.”

“Raoul.” Christine raised her voice firmly.

“I will help her get a divorce. And a restraining order if I must.”

“Raoul, that’s enough!” she snapped. 

“You can’t stay here, Christine, he’s a murderer.”

“A murderer?” Erik laughed. “And who am I supposed to have murdered?”

“Joseph Buquet.” Christine whispered. 

Erik frowned. “Buquet is dead? Where is he?”

Christine gestured vaguely down the hall. Erik sighed, kneeling in front of her, taking her hands.

“Christine… I know that what you saw last night was… horrific. But do you truly think me a monster? Do you believe I killed that man?”

She would not meet his eyes, staring at their hands. 

“No.” She shook her head. “Why would you? He works for you. But he told me… he told me about your  _ rooms _ .”

Erik visibly paled. 

“What did he tell you, Christine?”

“That you create… torture chambers. You drive men to their deaths without getting your hands dirty. You have killed without killing… haven’t you?”

Erik stared at her for a long moment. 

“Those days are long behind me, Christine. But yes, while these hands have never taken a life, they have led to the end of many.”

“Joseph was hung,” Christine sighed, closing her eyes briefly

His grip on her hands tightened for a moment. 

“I did not kill him.”

“I believe you.”

“I don’t.” Raoul hissed as he yanked Christine away from Erik and, gripping her shoulders, forced her to face him. “Christine, did you not hear what he just said? He confessed to murder! We have to call the police.”

“Raoul… you can’t. Please, just go. Let Erik deal with this.” Christine touched his cheek, pretending she did not see Erik’s eyes narrow. “If you love me… don’t say anything about what you saw here today.” 

Raoul hesitated, then let out a defeated sigh. 

“How can I leave you here with him, Christine? What if you’re next? I could never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“You can call me or text me anytime, Raoul. I’ll be ok. He’s my husband.” Raoul winced at her words. “He would never hurt me.”

Christine desperately wished she felt as certain as she sounded, but she needed her adopted family and Raoul far away from the present danger. If that meant she would be the sacrifice, so be it. 

Raoul reluctantly released her and left with the Girys. Christine faced her husband, gasping as his hands clamped down on her hips and pressed her against the wall. His mouth descended on hers hungrily. She hesitated for a moment before returning the kiss, lifting her arms around his neck. His mouth plundered hers desperately, his hands roaming to her bottom, and then up towards her breasts. 

He broke the kiss, growling. “You belong to me!”

Christine stared up at him with passion-dazed eyes, questioning. 

“You let him touch you with far too much familiarity. You beguile him with sweet words like “if you love me”. You are  _ my _ wife!” Erik’s hands on her waist tightened. 

“Erik… please let go of me. We need to talk. And something needs to be done about Joseph.” 

She’d much rather kiss him senseless, until they both forgot the corpse and the rooms and Raoul, but she knew that they couldn’t. 

With a sigh, Erik released her. “What is there to talk about, Christine? What would you have me say?”

“I want to know everything. If you didn’t kill Joseph, who did?”

“I… have a suspect in mind.” He mused, taking a seat at the small kitchen table. “I suppose, in order for you to understand, I must start at the beginning.”

Christine busied herself with making tea, too anxious to sit and listen to him talk.

Erik watched her for a long moment. He’d hoped, perhaps foolishly, that his past would never come up. Erik knew that this would irrecoverably damage their marriage, delicate as it already was. 

“When I was younger, I was… reckless. I traveled from country to country on a whim. I was free, with no roots to tie me anywhere. My parents had abandoned me as an infant and I have no other family; not that I know of, anyway. For a long time, I hitched rides on wagons or stowed away on ships. I stole what I needed to live and took shelter in alleys or abandoned homes. It didn’t matter; I was exploring, seeing the world. I’d stick around a place until I inevitably got myself into trouble, and then I’d be off. That’s how I ended up in the Middle East. I was a young man by then, and considering seeking a place to call home. I started designing buildings in Iran and was contracted by a wealthy family to build them a palatial summer home. The head of the family was a stoic, but benevolent man, and I got along with him quite well. It was his daughter, however, that caught my eye. Her name was Scheherazade, but I called her Shah.” 

Erik looked away from Christine, staring at the wooden tabletop with a distant gaze.

“She was a beautiful woman, but there was evil in her. She’d been raised by a powerful father and, by the time I met her, she knew she could get away with anything. She lured me to her side with sweet smiles and promises that I, an unhappy virgin, could not resist. It began innocently enough, with her simply watching me pen rooms and suggesting the odd change. She requested me to make rooms that grew increasingly bizarre. There was a small spark of darkness within me, and she fanned it into a raging fire. Together, we brought my rooms to life, and she used her charms as a temptress to lure in unsuspecting victims, usually men that would not be missed. We were a wicked team, and nothing and no one could get to us. I thought those days would never end.”

He let out a soft sigh. 

“I met Buquet during that time. He was one of the men we hired to construct the rooms. We rarely spoke most of the time, but we didn’t need to. I knew he looked down on my work. However, it was a source of income for him, and I think he hated himself for needing it when he knew the dark truth of those rooms. Nadir worked in the house as well. If I recall, he was the family’s accountant. Truthfully, I never paid him much mind, either. In my mind, Shah and I were in love and that was all that mattered. Everything went to hell when Shah crossed a line.”

Christine placed a mug of tea in front of him, but he made no move to touch it. 

“Nadir came to me in the middle of the night, Buquet following closely. They carried two trembling children in their arms, one boy, one girl. Shah had ensnared a family in one of my rooms. The parents were dead, along with an older sibling. Nadir had heard the screams, and he and Buquet rushed to intervene. We knew there would be no punishment for Shah; she would likely throw the children back in, and toss Nadir and Buquet with them. So, they took the children and fled. They wanted me to go too, but I stayed behind to confront Shah. In my innocence, perhaps, I believed there had been some mistake, or that she’d feel remorse for what she’d done.”

Erik finally pulled the mug closer, stirring in some sugar absentmindedly. 

“When I told her what had transpired the night before, she was angry that two of the children survived. She wanted either me to hunt them down, or to locate “suitable replacements”.She was enraged when I refused. She demanded that I pay with my own blood, and wanted a special room built so that she could watch my demise. I fled that evening, and joined Nadir and Buquet with the children.”

He took a long sip. 

“Shah could never stand when things didn’t go her way. A few months ago, I received word that her father had passed and she had inherited… everything. A mysterious proposal followed not long after. The day you and I met was meant to be my first meeting with a potential client, who wanted a very specific room designed. When I eventually met with them at a later date, I declined the offer. At first, they continued to pester me, offering more money, calling and emailing constantly. And then, one day, it stopped. I don’t doubt she found another architect to build the room for her, and that the room is intended for me. That woman can hold a grudge like no other.”

He took another long sip. “If I am correct, and that she had Buquet killed, then we can no longer stay here. Nadir may also be on her list. I haven’t heard from him since we left France. We should return, to ensure his well being, and form a plan from there. He will need to come with us, if he is not already dead.”

Christine stared down into her mug, clutching it in both hands. “The spring semester is about to begin. I won’t be able to go with you.”

“Christine.” Erik said gently, taking one of her hands in his. “If she is after me, then she undoubtedly knows about us. You aren’t safe here. I  _ cannot _ leave you behind, nor can we remain in this city. You will withdraw from the semester..”

Erik drained the rest of his tea and rose. 

“I am going to book us flights. We will leave as soon as possible. Hopefully, tonight.”

“We can’t leave tonight, Erik. We need to do something for Joseph. And I need to tell Meg and Antoinette, and Raoul will only worry more if we flee the country in the middle of the night!”

Erik knelt in front of her lap, taking both of her hands. 

“Christine, you must not breathe a word of this to anyone. Shah is clever, resourceful, and has a lot of time and money. We do not know what lengths she will go to. Do you understand that one of her people was in my house last night? That they murdered Joseph Buquet? Christine, they will not spare you a second glance. You are nothing to her. Please, I need you to stay by my side and follow me until I can know we are safe. Please, Christine.”

Christine looked down into her husband’s face, meeting his anxious, pleading eyes. She nodded. 

“Alright, Erik. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

**~*~*~*~**

Despite the ongoing pandemic, Raoul found himself at a bar that evening. He sat at a table in a dim corner, far away from everyone else, with a half empty glass in front of him; not his first of the night. He glared down at his black phone screen, willing it to light up. He hadn’t truly expected to hear from Christine, but it still burned. However, he’d also sent a text to his brother, asking him for advice. Known as the Champagne King on the Californian coast, Philippe had plenty of experience with women and getting over them. The message remained unread and for the first time in his life, Raoul felt alone. 

He had just downed his fourth glass when a figure approached his little table. Raoul squinted up at him, surprised to find Philippe in the flesh, grinning at him. 

“Hello little brother.”

Raoul sat up in his chair, gaping. “Philippe? What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you, of course.” 

He took a seat across from Raoul.

“Is this because of my text?”

Philippe hesitated, before giving a nod. 

Raoul frowned, his alcohol-addled mind trying to make sense of the situation. “You dropped everything and got on a plane to help me get over a girl?”

“Of course! I’d do anything for my little brother.” Philippie reassured, grinning at him as he flagged down a waitress and ordered a drink. His eyes followed her for a moment as she walked away before he returned his attention to Raoul. “So, tell me about this girl.”

“Her name is Christine Daae.”

Philippe sat up a little straighter at the name. “How did you meet her?”

“We go to the same school,” Raoul mumbled miserably, folding his arms over the table and resting his chin on them. “We had a class together.”

“I see. You know, I attended the opera in Paris last month and I swear, the lead shared the same name.”

“You were in Paris?”

“Yes.” The waitress returned and Philippe accepted his drink, flashing her one of his rakish grins that sent her off in a fit of giggles. “I had some business to attend to. Father is slowly handing over the family business.”

Raoul averted his eyes, glaring at the floor. “And how is father?”

“Deteriorating quickly. Though it’s still hard to get him to slow down. You really should visit.”

“I have no interest in seeing him. I spent Christmas with Mom and George, who’s more of a father to me than that man will ever be.”

“You shouldn’t speak so harshly about the man who has given you everything.” 

Raoul sighed. “I’m not getting into this with you again. You’re here about a girl, not to reunite me with our father.” 

“Right.” Philippe unlocked his phone, scrolling through his photos until he came to the one he was looking for, pushing the device towards Raoul. “Curtain call at the opera. Christine Daae is in the middle.”

Raoul stared at Christine’s exuberant face as she looked out over her adoring audience, wondering if he really knew anything about her. “That’s her. She was in Paris with her new husband.”

“Husband? You’re pining after a married woman?”

“She wasn’t married when she left.”

“Oh.” 

“I thought I was the only person she was seeing. Found out about the other guy when she came home with him. Really rich dude. He has a huge house. I think he killed somebody.” Raoul’s words were slurring more as he struggled to keep his eyes open. 

Philippe tried to shake Raoul awake. “What do you mean, you think he killed somebody?”

“Christine and I found a body at his house.”

“ _ Raoul _ .” Philippe shook him again. “Did you call the police?”

“No.” He sat up slowly. “Christine asked me not to. He said he didn’t do it.”

“What’s the name of this husband of hers?”

“Erik… something.”

“Erik Mulheim.” Philippe finished quietly. If Raoul had been sober, he would have wondered how Philippe knew the man’s name. 

Raoul rose unsteadily, gripping the table for support. “I  _ left _ her with that… man. She could be in danger, Philippe.”

Philippe rose, lifting one of Raoul’s arms over his shoulders. “You need to get to bed.” Raoul started to protest. “Hush. While you sober up, I’ll make sure she’s ok.”

He led Raoul to his car and drove him to his hotel room, practically carrying him to the room and tossing him onto the bed. Raoul fell into an unhappy sleep. 

When he woke hours later, Philippe was speaking quietly into his phone, but he quickly ended the call when he noticed Raoul sitting up. 

“Did you find her?” Raoul’s voice was groggy but urgent. 

Philippe hesitated and Raoul felt his stomach drop.  _ Please god, don’t let her be dead _ . “Just tell me,” he pleaded. 

“Christine and her husband have fled the country.”


End file.
